


Beautiful

by ahurston



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Episode: s06e01 Smoke Signals, Fluff, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Season/Series 06 Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-10
Updated: 2020-01-10
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:48:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22193572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ahurston/pseuds/ahurston
Summary: Patrick said, "You could make it beautiful," and David has some feelings to work through about that.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Comments: 22
Kudos: 254





	Beautiful

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for making bodies and syntax work as they should [this_is_not_nothing](https://archiveofourown.org/users/this_is_not_nothing/pseuds/this_is_not_nothing)!!!

“You can’t just _say things_ like that in front of my _parents_ and _Stevie_ and _God,"_ David said, peppering Patrick’s face with kisses between every other word. “And worst of all, in front of my _sister_ ,” he added, with a kiss to the corner of Patrick’s laughing mouth, pressing him against the back of Patrick’s apartment door. 

“Remind me, what is it I can’t say?” Patrick teased, returning the kisses as much as he could, happily trapped between David’s body and the door. After Patrick had said what he'd said at the barbecue, David had practically dragged him back to Patrick's apartment. Thankfully, they were already inside, rather than out in the hallway. They didn't need a second member of the Rose family arrested for indecent exposure today. 

“You know. The thing," David said, grinding against him. Which was a bit of a problem, actually, because these jeans were _tight_.

“So you disagree, then,” Patrick replied, needling. 

“Of course not. Obviously, I could make a wedding at the motel nice.”

“Hm. Didn’t say ‘nice,’ though. I believe I said...what was it again?”

“You said I could make it - _fuck,"_ David cut himself off, as Patrick sucked a kiss behind his ear, perfectly aware he wasn't playing fair here.

“Pretty sure that wasn’t it either,” Patrick murmured hotly against his neck. 

“It’s just, that word.”

“What word?” Patrick said, working his hand into what he’d very recently been informed were _culottes,_ a term David had rigorously and repeatedly defined to him when Patrick made the fatal mistake of calling the fabric that covered his legs a skort. 

“Let me,” David said, batting his hand away gently.

“ _Beautiful_ , was that it?” Patrick said, as David stepped out of what Patrick would never admit aloud looked like a picnic blanket wrapped around his legs. Patrick tugged the sweater over David's head, leaving him in just a soft, white undershirt and briefs. 

Goosebumps rose on David's arms when Patrick ran his hands from his wrists to his shoulders, which was flattering given the hot July air. 

"Bed, now," David said, looping his fingers in Patrick's belt and tugging him in that direction. Patrick went more than willingly. 

He let David push him down onto the mattress on his back. Even two years in, the thrill of being manhandled like this hadn't faded. David's hands went to his belt, slipping it through the belt loops and letting it clatter to the floor. 

"These new jeans - not that I'm complaining," David said, grunting as he struggled to tug them down Patrick's legs, "But they're pretty - _fuck_ \- form-fitting. Don't you think?"

Patrick raised himself to his elbows so he could watch David's epic battle with stubborn denim.

"You bought these for me a year ago," Patrick pointed out, grinning as he watched David nearly topple off the bed when he finally succeeded in freeing Patrick's legs from the jeans. 

"No," David said, wiping his hand across his now-sweaty face. "I refuse to believe that. I've taken you out of a lot of pants. I'd remember these."

"It's Cabaret, I'm telling you. Thank your mother and her rigorous choreography."

"I'm not going to thank my mother for your very fuckable thighs," David said, shuddering theatrically. Patrick laughed, falling back on the bed.

Next, David moved up his body to start unbuttoning his shirt. 

"Green, huh?" David said, his eyebrows a visual question mark. 

"Yeah, what do you think?"

"Love it. To use your turn of phrase..." David trailed off.

"Mmhmm?"

"It's very..."

"You can do this. I believe in you."

"Beautiful. You're beautiful, Patrick."

Oh. Well. That word...Patrick cleared his throat. 

"See?" David said, kissing his palm before pulling his hand through his shirt sleeve and then repeating the process on the other side.

Patrick nodded, suddenly not quite able to form words. How strange. 

"Lift your hips for me," David instructed. 

Patrick complied, the word still ricocheting around his brain. David tugged his boxer briefs down and off, then somehow managed to get his own off without looking awkward in the least or leaving the bed. Witchcraft. 

"Now sit up," David said. Patrick appreciated the clarity of David’s directions at this particular moment, as it seemed his own brain had gone a tad offline. He bent forward so David could work his undershirt off and over his head, tossing both the shirt and the button up in the general direction of the hamper.

David pressed gently on his shoulders, tacitly encouraging him onto his back. "Beautiful," David said, straddling his hips and looking down at him. 

"You really are,” Patrick said, cupping a hand around the back of David’s head and pulling him down, down until David’s chest was against his, David’s mouth against his, as it should be. 

Before Patrick was even fractionally prepared to end the kiss, David was pulling back, just enough to look at him in that particular way he did sometimes. Like he was something nice to look at it. Maybe even...

“Gorgeous,” David said, thumbing at his mouth, and completing the sentence Patrick’s mind hadn’t been able to. 

Patrick could feel the blush creeping over his cheeks to his ears. He still wasn’t quite able to comfortably bear this much of David’s focused attention without attempting to deflect. So, wrapping an arm around David’s midsection, Patrick flipped them over quickly, before David could react. 

Unlike himself, David might not have placed a respectable 8th in the 2005 Greater Sudbury Regional Wrestling Tournament, but he was still pretty good at bed-based grappling. The element of surprise was necessary. 

“You’re -” _kiss,_ “the most beautiful -” _kiss_ , “person who ever -” Patrick said, working his way down David’s chest. 

“Ever what?” David said, clenching his fingers in Patrick’s back, arching against him. 

“Ever...God, take your pick,” Patrick said. 

“Ever...went into business with you,” David said, scratching trails from Patrick’s shoulder blades to the top of his ass. 

Patrick laughed, then licked his lips and pressed a series of wet kisses up the side of David’s cock.

David groaned. “Ever...carried you up a mountain.”

Patrick hummed as he swirled his tongue around the head of his dick before taking a deep breath through his nose and sinking down as low as he could, his hands gripping David’s thighs. David’s hands had wandered to his hair, alternately petting and pulling at the strands. 

“Ever...loved you so fucking much,” David said thickly, cupping a hand around Patrick’s jaw as he swallowed David’s dick into his throat. 

“God, I never thought I’d cry while getting head. Look what you’ve done,” David said. 

Patrick looked up at him, pausing the wet slide of his mouth. 

“Well, don’t _literally_ look, fuck,” David said, tugging on his hair to get his mouth back where he clearly wanted it. “I’m definitely not beautiful now.”

Patrick switched to his hand, so that he could use his mouth to argue.

“Always, always beautiful,” Patrick said, twisting his fist around the head and stroking firmly to the base of David’s dick, dripping wet with spit and pre-come. “The most beautiful.”

David let out a keening whine when Patrick switched back to his mouth on David’s dick, sucking hard, working his tongue along the vein and keeping up the movement of his fist on what he couldn’t comfortably fit in his mouth. 

“Jesus, Jesus - okay, alright, _fuck_ , I wanna see it, wanna see it on you.”

Patrick nodded, mouth happily full of cock. He reached for David’s hand, bringing it to his dick and pulling off enough to give David room to - _there_. 

Warm splashes of come hit over his cheeks, across his mouth, in his eyelashes. He sighed, catching his breath, and David’s fingers came up to trace the streaks of come, making Patrick’s face the canvas of his very own filthy-gorgeous Jackson Pollock painting. 

“See, you can make anything beautiful, David,” Patrick said.

“Maybe you’re right,” David said softly, fingers drawing swirls on his cheeks. Then he added, “For the record, you already were. Now climb on up here. Your turn.”


End file.
